Conversations with a Murderer

Photo by Ant Rozetsky on Unsplash

I leave work after a long Tuesday hoping to catch a bus quickly. Traffic is jammed. The weather is turning cold. The northern cold front is a cruel punishment after experiencing a glimpse of warm spring weather.

As the northern winds blow in from the lake, I grumble under my breath about how frustrating it is to wait for a bus. Wondering why I moved to Cleveland. By the time does roll around, the weather drops from 60 to an excruciating 37, sending its blustery chill through my thin spring trench coat.

I climb aboard, plop into an empty seat, and take a deep sigh. As the bus begins to roar to its next stop, I feel a draft and realize that a window is cracked. Will I have no respite from the cold?

The bus screeches to its next stop at Public Square, a central hub for public transportation, and the seats are quickly filled with passengers. I pay no attention, continuing to read my article about how to use the work place as my mission field. But firmly ignoring any passengers around me. Safety first. Right?

After a minute or so, the middle-aged man sitting next to me turns to me and asks, “Are you a Christian?” I pause for a second, wondering where this conversation will lead. Prepared to make my defense, I look at the tiny heading on my tattered article, then back to the man and confirmed that I am. 

"Me, too," he smiles. Then, as if he’d been doing it for years, he begins to share his testimony.

“David was a notorious drug dealer, and he worked the dope deals and the streets as if he’d been born to do it. ”

David contributed to the rough neighborhoods of Cleveland in the 1980's--a time when the city's economy was struggling. Morale, job opportunities, and stable homes were at an all-time low. David was a notorious drug dealer, and he worked the dope deals and the streets as if he'd been born to do it.

Bad deals couldn't stop him.

Three bullets to the stomach wouldn’t stop him.

Being pushed out of a fifth-story window didn’t stop him.

"God tried to teach me, but I wasn't listening," he says. David returned to the streets with more fervor than ever, feeling invincible as his riches grew.

And suddenly, something extreme put a stop to it all. "I killed a guy in a deal," he says, matter-of-factly. 

“His eyes don’t look like those of a cold-blooded killer. Yet I think, ‘Wow. I’m sitting next to a murderer.’”

Shocked by his open confession and suddenly aware that there are several people within earshot, I don't know how to react. I look at his weathered face and I have hard time believing it. His eyes don't look like those of a cold-blooded killer. Yet I think, “Wow. I'm sitting next to a murderer.”

David, thankfully unaware of my internal monologue, continued his story. He was arrested and imprisoned under a sentence of 25 years. He worked hard and used the time behind bars as an opportunity to educate himself. A prison chaplain was one of David’s teachers.

"God had to put me in a place where he could get my full attention." And so, through the teachings of the chaplain, David turned over a new leaf, accepted Christ and became determined to live his life with a purpose.

David’s prison sentence was reduced to 14 years, and he was able to start his life anew. His fervor was now focused on being a witness for Christ. Through David's testimony and his knowledge of scripture, anyone willing to listen could hear the story of how someone so unlovable and so far removed from grace by society found the freedom, grace, fulfillment, and above all, LOVE, that we so crave.

David had to hit his lowest point in life to finally feel the joy he so passionately shares.

It made me think of King David from the Bible. A man who had risen to a high honor by God. Then, falling hard after an adulterous affair and masterminding a murder plot. Then, running for his own life. Rock. Bottom.

Psalm 25:7 captures King David’s soul, and I couldn’t help but connect the parallels to my bus mate David:

“Do not remember the sins of my youth and my rebellious ways; according to your love. Remember me, for you, Lord, are good.”

So, there I sit, next to a convict. A murderer. A man reborn. A man forgiven. Am I really so different in various aspects of my life?

John 3:15 says, “Anyone who hates a brother or sister is a murderer, and you know that no murderer has eternal life residing in him.”

Guilty.

My bus mate David says his goodbyes and leaves for his stop just as quickly as he initiated the conversation. "Nice to meet you, too," I say, fumbling too late for words to tell him that his conversation is more meaningful than he could know.

“That extra red light, the long checkout line, and the many other annoying delays in our schedule are often at the hand of God for a greater purpose. Are we willing to listen? ”

I remember a devotional I read years ago. That extra red light, the long checkout line, and the many other annoying delays in our schedule are often at the hand of God for a greater purpose. Are we willing to listen? Or will we shove our eyes into a book or the numbing scroll?

I never would have met David and heard his incredible testimony if I hadn't taken that particular bus. Because of the oddly heavy traffic pattern, I diverted my route. And if my life story were as powerful as his, would I have the bold courage to so boldly state my case for Christ?

Thank you, David. For your boldness and humbleness. And to the chaplain that so sacrificially loved the Davids of the world to spark changed lives.

Redemption is for everyone. Especially murderers.